Page 26 of Into the Blue
“Making assumptions.”
“You mean, the assumption that I’m some sort of privileged famous person who wouldn’t agree with how things are run here?”
“I don’t think you’re privileged. Famous, yes. You saw the poster in my shop, didn’t you?”
She rolls her eyes, but her mouth curves. “Why don’t you think I’m privileged?”
“I know you live a pretty nice life. I was part of it too, for a while, and I remember how it can be. But I don’t think you would have come here if you had any other options.” A gamble. She might tell me to fuck off. But the vulnerability I glimpsed in her green gaze makes me want to find out more. To be there for her.
She’s silent for a minute. Then she smiles. “Yeah. You’re probably right.” Her eyes meet mine and I feel that lightning flash between us again, my whole body electrified.
“I’m glad, though,” she continues. “That I came.”
I pull my mind away from the idea of making her come. “Will you go out with me again tomorrow?” I find myself saying. “Just in the morning, as I have work to do in the afternoon. But there’s somewhere else I’d like to show you.”
I can’t believe I’m considering taking her to such a special place. But something about the way she reacted to the temple, to the view, to everything we’ve seen so far tells me it’s the right thing to do. Another gamble, but one which I hope will pay off. Plus, I really want to see her again. Dangerous waters. But perhaps it’s time for me to take the plunge.
She looks at me, considering. Then she nods. “All right.”
ChapterSixteen
Jade
Sleep has a wonderful way of sorting out the mind. That is, if you’ve not spent half the night tossing and turning, thinking about the hot guy you’re not supposed to be thinking about, before finally drifting off to sleep in the early hours. When my alarm goes off it takes me a moment to realise what’s happening, and I knock my phone to the floor by accident.
“Fuck.” I hang out of bed, reaching for it, wanting the noise to stop, then roll onto my back, clutching the offending phone in one hand as I stare at the ceiling and let the sounds of the island settle around me. Waves breaking, palms rustling, birds chirping. The pitter-patter of tiny feet on the porch outside. I breathe it in, my heart rate slowing, and wonder what it would be like to wake up here every morning, to have nothing more pressing to do than surf or cook or work at a small business. How simple it would feel.
A short while later, showered and dressed, I take my breakfast smoothie outside and sit on the steps of the veranda, watching waves roll in, one perfect, deserted, curling barrel after another. There’s an ache in my chest that I can’t surf them. But I sit with it for a minute and wonder whether it’s because I feel I should surf them, or that I truly want to.
When I started surfing, I found healing in it, an escape from my tumultuous home life. But as I’ve become more successful, that feeling seems harder to hold on to. Perhaps that’s what my body was trying to tell me, when I woke up with Zach the day after my last competition and everything felt wrong. Shit, I still love the water. Looking at it now, I would give anything to go out there. I can almost taste the salt, feel the hiss and sting of the waves, the sheer freedom of riding a force more powerful than I am.
But seeing it from a distance yesterday, the ocean stretching like a glittering blue carpet into the distance, made me realise something. I’ve spent so long pleasing everyone else that I’m not sure what I want anymore. I used to think it was being a surfing star. Now my face is on magazines and in stores around the globe. I have hundreds of thousands of social media followers. I win competitions more often than I lose, and I make good money, more than I could have ever dreamed of. But I’ve lost something along the way. I want to reconnect with that younger version of me, the one who had nothing but a second-hand board and an old wetsuit that didn’t fit, who went out in the waves almost every day because she couldn’t do any different. I feel closer to her here than I have anywhere else.
I head back inside to get dressed. A couple of emails have popped up on my phone so I guess the Wi-Fi has kicked in. I grin, thinking of Axel yesterday, and why he doesn’t want to upgrade it. I kind of feel like he wasn’t joking, to be honest. My smile slides away, though, when I see more messages coming through from Zach. I can’t look at those, not right now.
I check the emails instead. The first one is from Zara. I brace myself. Of all the sponsorships I have, Ocean’s Curl is the one I least want to lose.
Dear Jade,
Myles and I are so sorry to hear the news, and we hope you’re okay. Of course we can still work together! You have a home with Ocean’s Curl as long as you want one. And, if you’d like a change of scenery, Myles and I are sailing around Indonesia looking at a few places, if you fancy a few days on the yacht? Just let me know.
Love, Zara
Damn. My heart full, I hug my phone to my chest. That is so Zara. She’s been a friend since I met her, when she art-directed a shoot with me and Zach just before she married Myles. We hit it off immediately, and I’ve stayed at a few of their homes around the world. I’m tempted by her offer, to be honest. Tempted to fall into the soft cushion I know she would be, to pour my heart out.
I open the next email. It’s from Sol, via Jared, and contains a list of sponsors they’re going to pitch my “brand” to once the news about me and Zach is official, as well as some highlighted posts and comments about us splitting, with a note saying how good it’s been for engagement. My finger hovers over the delete button, a pit in my stomach. But I know I have to reply, so I simply type a breezy “Looks great!” and press send before I can think about it too much.
I can’t turn away from this stuff. I have responsibilities, and this is part of what I have to do for now so I can do what I want later, once I figure out what that is. But I’ve only been here for a week, even if it does feel like longer. Which is why I’m going to decline Zara’s kind offer. Going back to that world, to her world, means facing reality. And I’m not sure I’m ready to do that yet.
Plus, there’s another reason I’m not keen to leave, but I stamp on that thought firmly as I get changed, putting on the cargo trousers from yesterday with another Ocean’s Curl T-shirt, this one with a blue design like shimmering water.
But I can’t deny I’m intrigued by Axel. For so many reasons. I want to know his story, and why he chose to turn his back on everything. That is, if he wants to share it. The fact I also want to get closer to him in other ways is something I need to sort out. He is not my rebound, I tell myself for the umpteenth time as I braid my hair. You’re just hanging out with a friend today. A really hot friend who smells amazing.
I head along the pathway to his house, anticipation curling in my stomach at the thought of wrapping myself around him on the scooter again. Axel is waiting outside, looking hot in dark trousers and a T-shirt fitted across his shoulders and chest, his sandy blond hair tousled.
“Morning,” he says, smiling. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Yes,” I lie, because he doesn’t need to know I spent half the night thinking about him.
